


Call it Uncomplicated

by MooseDeRPs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, RP, Uhhhh 'bout it, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseDeRPs/pseuds/MooseDeRPs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was a simple man.  He had a simple job, a simple house, and a simple life.  Some could say his life was empty and miserable.</p><p>He preferred to call it uncomplicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call it Uncomplicated

**Author's Note:**

> I (MooseDe) play Dean, and my friend plays Castiel.

Dean Winchester was a simple man. He had a simple job, a simple house, and a simple life. He would wake at five, work out until six, be at work by seven, lunch break at the closest cafe by one, get back at two, finish by eight, eat a microwavable dinner, then sleep. Day in, day out, he repeated this schedule, his days off empty and often spent drinking while watching bad sitcoms. He had few friends, no girlfriends, one brother whom he rarely spoke to, and a father that was better left to his past. Some could say his life was empty and miserable.

 

He preferred to call it uncomplicated.

 

Without an alarm he shot into sitting position, his bleary eyes looking over at his clock sitting on his nightstand. The red letters beaming 4:59 AM. Just before the time changed to five he slammed his hand down on the button, signaling it to cancel the alarm previously set. He lied back onto the bed for a few moments, releasing a sigh through his nose. With one last heave he shoved himself off, ignoring the weight he felt throughout his body.

 

With a blank mind and glazed eyes he went throughout his day, eating a quick breakfast before going outside for a jog, returning to finish up his exercizes before dressing in his work uniform and driving off. He arrived at 7:00 AM sharp, giving a quick nod to his boss Bobby before going over to his station and waiting for his first customer to roll in. Soon enough customers began to flood in with deflated tires and busted engines, each and everyone of them rushing him and complaining because they have _oh so important_ things to get done.

 

By one he left for his lunch break, walking a few blocks to the cafe he saw that had recently opened up. The place had a homey feel and he felt put off. With a swipe to his nose he entered slowly, glancing around at the warm décor, his discomfort growing as he sat at the tables designed to look like one from your childhood when your mother was brewing something for lunch as you swung your legs around and asked incessant question after question.

 

He stared down at the napkins and waited as the worker finally noticed he was here. The girl manning the counter looked bored, her eyes a deep brown and hair pooling over her shoulders in curly dark locks. She quirked an eyebrow at him as they engaged in some strange form of a staring contest until she thumbed the board which read what they had for today.

 

“Just some coffee. Black.” He hadn't meant to say it so roughly but the place made him feel uneasy and who cares if the girl was offended by it? She merely rolled her eyes and wandered off to complete his order, mumbling something along the lines of 'asshole' underneath her breath. Dean just sat and stared down at his hands which rested criss-cross on the table.

 

 

Castiel was not too fond of coffee, but he enjoyed the slight bitterness and the thick texture. After preparing the beverage, he sat down at his kitchen table, glowering at the light that poured in through the open curtains. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the lighting and saw that there weren't any clouds in the sky. It was a pleasing sight, since he didn't like rain. Today should be simple, it was his day off. He had a desk job, it sustained him and kept him busy. It was near afternoon and he could go for a hardy breakfast (though it was nearly 1:00 PM). The cafe down the street served a great eggs and bacon biscuit sandwich. He was still in his suit, but he didn't feel like changing so he kept with it, not like it was wrinkled or anything. Thankfully, he didn't move much in his sleep.

 

He could tell it was chilly outside so he grabbed the first coat on his hanger, a beige trench coat. It wasn't his preferred choice of coats, but he was hungry and wanted to get out of the house. Besides, not like it didn't look good on him. He quickly headed out, he had a car but since the cafe wasn't far away he chose to walk. As he was going down the road he noticed a man jogging up the hill, he looked fit. He decided later that he would take a jog around town. By the time he was at there it was nearly 12:30, he quickly ordered his food and, almost sluggishly, sat down at the nearest table. He held a certain attraction towards the counter woman as well as a definite distaste. He shrugged it off and gazed at the menu, re-reading it over again, skimming over the words.

 

He only looked up when he saw that his food was being placed in front of him, he looked up to see the woman again. She walked away, winking at him before returning to the counter. He found that the food wasn't as good as he remembered it to be, but it wasn't terrible so he finished it. Finding himself still hungry, he ordered a peach cobbler (though it was a rather small slice). He barely nibbled at the pastry while he dozed off.

 

Castiel crossed his arms and rested his head on the make shift pillow. He didn't stay in that position for long, lifting his head he looked at his watch; 1:00 PM. He scooped up his trash, throwing it out as he left the shabby building. As he was exiting the door, he noticed the man he had seen jogging earlier. Once again, he noted to himself to exercise later.

 

 

The coffee was finished rather quickly and Dean offered the barista -Meg, her name tag read- a muttered halfhearted thanks. She huffed in return and went to doing her very important job of sitting at the empty counter and reading magazines. Dean scoffed at that, finishing his coffee quickly and wanting to leave as soon as possible, the friendly atmosphere of the cafe ruining his already bad mood.

 

As soon as the last drop of coffee left the mug he pulled out a five and set it on the table. Rushing out of the warm cafe as fast as possible and ignoring the pointed glare from the barista. Screw her, he thought, he didn't like the place and wasn't coming back any time soon. It wasn't that the drink was bad or the place was ugly, it was just... too much like... He shook his head as he calmed his steps, refusing to let his trail of thought continue as he neared his workplace.

 

Bobby, sensing his mood even if he covered it with an (what he considered) great fake smile, called him over.

 

“Boy whats your problem? You came in storming as if ghosts were after ya'.” The older man said, his face annoyed but his eyes showing he was honestly concerned. Dean scratched the back of his head, not one for sharing his feelings.

 

“N-” he cleared his throat, “Nothing sir, just drank some bad coffee.” The words spilled from his mouth easy and Bobby let him go, although his eyes trailed after Dean's form as the man returned from his station.

 

Dean glanced at his watch, not expecting customers anytime soon. Contrary to his expectations however people began pouring in around late noon, each one with different although simple problems to fix. The simplicity of the machines and their malfunctions calmed Dean. He liked easy, and he liked simple. Simple and easy he could do. By late eight he was off work and in his Chevy '67 Impala on his way home.

 

And if the empty feeling of the home made him feel a little bad and he drank a bit more than he should before sleeping, then no one would have to know.

 

 

In no time, Castiel was at his drive way. He was bewildered to see his front door cracked open. Had he forgotten to lock it? He was positive he did. Cautiously, he walked up the steps, creaking open the door. Prepared for combat, he was surprised to see no one there. With a sigh of relief, he closed the door and plopped down on the chair. Instantly, he froze. He heard the padding of footsteps coming up from behind the couch. He swiveled around to see someone he didn't at all expect.

 

Who he saw wasn't a robber with a gun, but a person who stirred up a kind of emotion deep inside of him, like a stab in the gut. He hated this feeling, he hadn't felt it in a long time. And this person sure as hell didn't have a right to be the one to cause it. For a moment, he just stared at her, gaping.

 

At last Castiel spoke, “Anna.” He said it more shakily than he liked.

 

She looked at him with a sadness in her eyes, but she didn't speak.

 

“Why are you here?” He demanded.

 

Anna looked down at the floor. She had aged, by the looks of it she was almost thirty.

 

He asked again, “Why are you here, Anna?”

 

“Castiel, It's been a while, hasn't it?”

 

Castiel furrowed his brows, “It has.”

 

He swore he heard her chuckle. “You've grown so much since I've seen you.” She smiled warmly, he knew that smile, though it was only a vague memory.

 

“I know you don't think I deserve to be here, Castiel, but I have a reason. Just listen to me, okay?” She almost pleaded.

 

Castiel merely looked at her.

 

Anna, sensing her cue, looked him in the eye and stated, “It's Lucifer, you do remember him, don't you? I know you were very young when he was taken away. Do you remember?” He nodded. “Yes, I'm sorry that you do. Castiel, he's out of jail. I don't know exactly when, but it seems someone bailed him out. I have no clue who, but I just wanted you to know.” He lips pursed and she said no more.

 

Calmly, Castiel told her, “If Lucifer is out, he wont be a problem to me. I barely even knew him.”

 

Anna nodded weakly, “I know.”

 

He knew it wasn't a the best choice to just let her walk out, after all that she had missed. Running away when he was only five, he didn't remember much of her. He put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. Maybe he still had time to catch her, learn about her, tell her about his life. But he was tired today and what he didn't need right now was complications.

 

Groaning, he got up and headed to his car. He needed to get groceries, more or less, he needed to distract himself. Sitting himself in front of the wheel, he turned on the engine. Twist, nothing. Twist, a sputter, cough and silence. Great, just what he needed, a broken car.

 

 

Dean had awoken to his cell ringing at... 9:38 PM? Its only been thirty minutes since he went to bed, did he know anyone who even bothered with him outside of the bars and work? Grumbling under his breath he shuffled over onto the other side of his bed to grab at the phone sitting innocently on his nightstand. His head was pounding and his voice was slurred but he managed to sound halfway decent when he saw it was Bobby calling.

 

“Yes sir?” He managed and he could practically feel Bobby's disapproval through the phone and silence.

 

“We got a house call, its a bit late but the guy seemed like he was having a bad time, so I promised him my best worker.” Bobby paused, hearing Dean's grumblings and search for pills that could kill his headache. “Your in your bathroom looking for painkillers ain't ya' kid?” Dean stopped his movements.

 

“Uh... No?” He offered.

 

“Just get over to 6552 Stallin St ya' idjit.” The phone called ended.

 

Dean cursed and began fumbling around for some decent clothes, finding torn at the knees jeans and a black tee. Slipping into some socks and bouncing down the stairs at the same time he went to his kitchen, searching for water. He glugged down a bottle before shoving into his boots, getting his tools before going to his car. Putting his tools securely in his trunk he once more got into his beloved car and drove off.

 

“6225? No its 6552...” He mumbled as he drove through the quaint neighborhood, stopping in front of a nice looking two story home. He stepped out of the car and went to the door, knocking on it impatiently and louder than necessary. What? He was tired and his head was pounding and this guy could have waited for decent hours like everyone else.

 

 

After hours of grueling work, Castiel found that he had no idea how to fix a car. He already knew that he made his situation worse. Just great. Looking at his watch: 9:01 P.M.

 

Castiel fumbled for his phone, he only knew of one place that would repair his car this late. He dialed in the number and was greeted with a man who sounded rather tired.

 

“Hello, I'm sorry to be bothering so late but my car has broken down and I can't fix it myself.” He finished.

 

The old man told him it was fine and that they usually get customers late. “I'll get ya' my best worker.”

 

Thanking him, Castiel hung up. He went inside, grabbing a glass of water and walking back out. He hung out on the patio, waiting for the repair man. Unconsciously, he began to whistle softly. It's already been thirty minutes, he yawned and sat down on the chair on his front porch. Finding himself soar, he stood up and began to stretch. Oh yeah, he forgot to jog. He told himself to write it down once his car was fixed.

 

He continued stretching for a while, his shoulder hurt from trying to fix his car. He stopped when he heard a car roll up to his drive way. Turning around, he was surprised to see such a nice car belong to a man with that kind of job. He stepped down, and waited for the man to exit his car.

 

Dean stopped after a few minutes of pounding on the door, wondering if this house call was just a prank. He turned around ready to curse whoever gave the call and stopped when he saw a man about his height standing there and staring at him with confused eyes. Oh. The guy was there the entire time, why the hell didn't he just stop him then? Dean looked down at himself, he appeared to be some robber and the poor guy must have been too scared to stop him.

 

He coughed into a fist and swiped at his nose, the silence being shared between the two anything but comfortable. Finally, the other man looked to his side and switched the porch lights on, revealing a mess of black hair and shockingly blue eyes. Damn the guys eyes were blue, what was that ocean? No too corny, maybe lightening? Bah what the hell was he doing reciting poetry about some strangers eyes? Work Dean, focus.

 

“So uh... I'm the repair guy.” The man simply stared at him blankly, his face stoic. Geez what was this guy, a robot? After another string of awkward silence and staring contests he spoke up again. “Dean. Dean Winchester, your name?” He stuck his hand out, putting on a false smile that could kill saints.

 

 

Castiel watched the man step onto his porch, but he didn't say anything. He watched as he pounded his door, didn't he notice him there? He blinked and felt a bit uncomfortable. When the man stopped he looked at him with a bit of shock on his face. Okay, so he didn't know he was there.

 

“So uh...I'm the repair guy.” The man stated, almost slurred.

 

Castiel swallowed and the man also said, “Dean. Dean Winchester, your name?” He tried to put on a smile, but sensed that he failed. Meekly holding out his hand, he looked more closely at the mans features. He was young, more-or-less in his thirties. Oh well, as the man said, he was his best worker. He just hoped he would fix his car fast and get it over with.

 

“I'm Castiel Novak. Pleased to meet you, my car is over there. I messed it up pretty bad, so I'm hoping you can repair it,” Castiel grinned slightly, “Well, you are the repair man.” He chuckled to himself lightly, but found that the man named Dean wasn't laughing. Finding the silence even more uncomfortable, he told him good luck and was about to head inside. Finding that rather rude, he offered him a beverage, but he refused, so headed inside and sat on the couch.

 

 

Dean winced internally as the joke fell flat, poor guy must be more awkward than he is right now. He swiped at his nose and nodded at Castiel, once more internally wincing. Castiel? What kind of name was that? Did his parents hate him? Shrugging that thought away he refused the beverage that was offered timidly and moved to fix the car.

 

He went to lift the hood of the car and grimaced, this thing was ancient. And... very badly messed with. The components were all off and that thing was _definitely_ not supposed to be there. Sighing loudly he began to work, losing himself bit by bit inside the machinery. Before he knew it he was half way done and very thirsty. He might be up for that drink. Leaning away he wiped his hands off on a wag and onto his cheek and forehead, only spreading oil and grease everywhere.

 

He crinkled his brow at the mess (the smell stopped bothering him some time ago) and went to the door that was left open just the slightest. He opened it further and announced with a grunt he was entering, Castiel sitting on his couch. The house wasn't bad he concluded, it didn't feel too warm but it wasn't empty. Just... he couldn't put his finger on it but it felt strange. Alone. Like his. He ignored that.

 

“So uh...” He cleared his sore throat. “Yeah dude you messed up your car pretty badly, what drinks do you got?”

 

 

Sighing heavily, he heard the man work. He wouldn't be surprised if the whole neighborhood was awake by now. His eyes fluttered shut and he relaxed. Feeling himself become absorbed in his thoughts he began to think of Anna. Why did she come? I mean, telling him about Lucifer wouldn't affect him, right? Not like he needed to know, it was a detail in his life that wouldn't do a damned thing, so why tell him?

 

His heart ached, he wished he had told her to stay, but he let her walk away. What if that was his only chance, and he blew it? He blocked those thoughts because he didn't need them buzzing his mind right now. He thought of his job, sitting, typing. He thought of the cafe. He thought of fixing the car. He thought of bees, and he thought of cats but he wiled himself to not think of Anna. Not today.

 

He slowly opened his eyes when he heard the man step inside. It was silent for a moment before Dean said, “So uh,” he heard him clear his throat. “Yeah dude you messed up your car pretty badly, what drinks do you got?”

 

Castiel got up and headed to the kitchen, without saying anything he poured Dean a glass of water and entered the living room, finding the man comfortably seated on his couch. Walking over to him, he seemed to have jolted him from deep thought. He handed him the water and asked how much longer it would take for the car to be repaired.

 

 

 

Castiel got up and left to his -what he presumed- kitcen to get him a drink without a word Dean settled on the couch, shrugging at the guys rude behavior. Well, he thought it was rude. Then again, he hasn't been the nicest guy today either. He checked his watch, groaning as the little hands pointed proudly to 10:05 PM.

 

Just grand, he has work tomorrow and here he was at some guys house fixing his car that should have been dealt with at a more normal time.

 

He scratched at his chin, glancing around the living room which was immaculately cleaned, not one object out of place, besides the small table. Littered on it were notebooks and a calculator along with one laptop open on some accountants site. Was he some tax guy? He thought back to the name and snickered. Holy tax accountant.

 

Before long Castiel reentered and handed him a decently sized glass of water, one which Dean accepted and began chugging down. Castiel sat next to him slowly, his eyes looking anywhere but Dean. Huh, hes got some pink lips for a guy- and what the hell Dean Winchester? Just shut it subconscious. Dean looked away when the other man glanced over at him, asking how much longer it will take him.

 

“I gotta say about another thirty minutes? You messed her up pretty bad and she's pretty old too.” He said, scratching at the back of his head and settling his boots on the coffee table, ignoring the groan from the wooden thing at the new weight. “So uh, what are you, some type of holy tax accountant?” He said, gesturing towards the computer and paper littered on the table, his other hand hanging over the back of the couch.

 

He seated himself a comfortable distance from Dean and watched him chug it down.

 

He saw Deans eyes flicker to the table, he hadn't cared to clean it. He saw a grin flirting with his lips and he asked, “so uh, what are you, some type of holy tax accountant?” He motioned his hands towards the mess.

 

Castiel looked at him and furrowed his brows, squinting his eyes. “Excuse me?” He asked.

 

That was rude. Yeah, he knew he came from a sacrilegious family but calling him a 'holy tax accountant' was definitely rude. Anyways, not like he himself hasn't been rude to him yet. However his joke didn't humor him and so far, today wasn't the best. Instead he said that, no, he wasn't a holy tax accountant but that he had a desk job. He got up, murmuring to himself that thirty minutes wasn't long, it would pass by in no time. He hoped that Dean would let himself out, but before he walked away he opened the hall way closet, pulling out a flash light. He handed it to Dean, “I think you'll need this.”

 

He set it an arms length from Dean and headed to the kitchen. He heard the front door shut and sat down at the table, resting his head on his crossed arms, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

 

 

Dean gave a confused glance at Castiel's back as the man stomped away after handing him a flashlight. Touchy. Dean shrugged, picking up the yellow object and heading back outside to finish the job. He whistled a low tune as he screwed objects back into their place, annoyance bubbling every so often wondering how the hell this thing drove anywhere with the condition it was in. Perhaps in his attempt to fix it he screwed everything to Timbuktu.

 

Sure enough however the half hour flew by and he was closing the lid, grimacing as the car groaned and creaked with the effort to keep the lid down. Whatever, not his problem to fix. He took a moment to step back and stare at the model. It wasn't a bad car, in fact, It would look great if he fixed it up. Though judging by how he 'fixed' up his cars engine that would be a bad idea.

 

He looked back at his baby, grinning at how well he kept her, hell she still looked mint condition! He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, all that was left for him was to get his pay. He walked inside quietly, knocking on the door once to signal he was still here. He heard no reply so he continued on, entering the kitchen where he last saw Castiel.

 

He saw Castiel snoozing away on the kitchen table, resting his head in his arms. Well then, the guy thought he could get away without paying? He snickered to himself, reaching around in his pockets for his dirty rag. Pulling it out he reached forward to rub it on the sleeping mans face but stopped at the peaceful expression. Should he really?

 

Sighing he put it away, instead grabbing the mans fallen trench coat (who even wears these things anymore nowadays?) and pulled it around the curled shoulders. He'll come by later for payment. Exiting the house and making sure it was locked he got back into his baby and drove back home, tired and worn out. Without removing his boots or clothes he plopped onto bed, not even bothering to get underneath the comforter.

 

 

Rousing from his sleep, he saw that it was morning. He stood up immediately. Where did Dean go? Did he leave without having him pay? He could assume a later visit was at hand. He changed clothes, now in a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. He felt groggy, barely refreshed. He took out twenty bucks and went to his car, hopping in and was pleased to find that the engine was working fine.

 

He parked at the same cafe' and walked inside. He ordered an omelet, Swiss Cheddar. When it came he didn't find himself too hungry, barely taking a bite from the food. He tipped the waitress and left.

 

He began to notice Dean in more places. At the store, by the cafe, jogging on the road. He shook it off and kept driving. He was his street before he decided to turn around, heading towards “Bobby’s-Machanic-Repair-Shop”. He didn't pay last night, and he sure didn't want anyone coming over again. It always made him uneasy having company.

 

By the time he reached the shop he pulled out his wallet, preparing to pay the expense. He headed into the tacky building and saw a man on the desk who he presumed was the owner.

 

Clearing his throat he leaned on the counter, “Uh, I'm here to pay for the repair from last night, I'm Castiel.”

 

The man didn't look up, “Just set the money on the counter.”

 

Castiel pulled out two twenty’s and asked how much. “Seventy five bucks, sixty four if you don't got enough cash on ya'.”

 

Castiel pulled out a hundred and winced, “Can you break up a hundred?”

 

The man shook his head and pointed to the nearest convenient store. He sighed and said he'll be back.

 

He headed off to break the hundred, entering the store and was a little startled to see Dean at the the doors. He stood behind him and cleared his throat.

 

 

Last night had not been a fun one for Dean, he tossed and turned all night and had been unable to find sleep. Of course he woke up on time and did all of his morning tasks, it just meant that pretty much the entire town dodged him. A running man with a glare that could murder was something people did not want to get in the way of. He arrived at work on time and gave a grin to his boss, even if Bobby knew that it was fake, formalities you know?

 

By one he was ready for his lunch, dodging the unpleasant (pleasant, warm, homey, comforting) cafe and went to the nearest convenience store. He didn't mind crappy donuts. Just as he was about to enter the automated doors he heard someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned to see Castiel, the man from the night before, standing there rather awkwardly, looking down at his shoes.

 

Dean took pity on him -even if he really didn't feel up to keeping the social standards of being friendly to practically everyone- and gave him a small grin, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. He turned his body to the side, so part of it was facing the store and the other Castiel.

 

“Hey... Castiel was it?” Remembering he had offended the man last night with his 'holy tax accountant' joke, made to apologize. “Yeah sorry about the whole joke last night, I wasn't exactly on par with my social abilities then.” He's still not but something about the guy in front of him told him it would be a bad time to mess with him.

 

“Anyways, you uh, you heading in?”

 

 

Dean looked at him and apologized for his behavior yesterday, stating that his 'social abilities' weren't 'up to par'. He nodded and didn't look up, pretending to be fascinated by the gravel on the floor.

 

Then Dean asked, “Anyway, you uh, you heading in?”

 

He looked up. “Uh, yes I am.” Castiel replied. “Just have to break this to pay for the bill, from, you know, you repairing my car last night.” He looked at the floor.

 

He saw Dean shoot a smile at him, but he didn't respond. He just pushed in through the door and went to the counter. The counter man politely informed him that he had to buy something if he wanted to break up money. He went to the food aisle, finding himself rather hungry. He examined a candy bar and decided that it would suffice. Castiel grabbed a water bottle with the candy bar and headed towards the counter to pay. He saw that Dean had beat him to it and was already sliding his credit card, paying for what looked like beer and pie. Castiel straightened his back and heard multiple cracks, he was slouching since he entered the car.

 

Setting his items on the counter, Castiel had them scanned and passed the counter man his bill. The candy bar and the water cost about five seventy-five, he got his money back and left the store. He slowed down and watched Dean entered his -Impala?- by the looks of it. It looked good, much better than his car. But his car was reliable, though it didn't catch anyone’s eye.

 

He sat in front of the wheel, started the car and headed back down to Bobby's Repair shop to pay. Once parked, inside and at the counter he pulled out the seventy five bucks and the man gladly took the money, wishing him a good day and to come back soon. Come back soon? What, does he want his car to break down again? Well, that's how they get business. Castiel munched on the snickers bar as he drove, disliking the flavor of artificial cocoa.

 

Once at home, though it was only 3:00 P.M., he threw himself on his bed and just lied there.

 

 

Dean sent an annoyed glare at Castiel's back, he had the _courtesy_ to be friendly and the man just ignored him? Well, he just earned himself a prime spot on the Winchester shit-list. Huffing through his nose he marched inside, grabbing the cheapest pie slice and bottle of beer he could and sliding it easily onto the counter, flashing the teen manning it a _charming_ -not- grin.

 

The teen had the gall to grin cheekily back, scanning his things and just to annoy Dean (or well he believed) asked to see his ID. Dean grumbled under his breath while handing him his ID, stating that yes in deed he was thirty five and very much capable of buying alcohol. The teen shooed him away and he scoffed at him, taking his pie and beer to the car.

 

Very careful not to spill anything in his baby he chose to drive back to his work station instead of eating here. His day after that passed by with a blur, Bobby having him make two more house calls while Jo and him got the check ins. He finished them quickly, annoyed that his mind every so often flashed blue eyes and messy dark hair. Damn that guy got on his nerves more than he thought.

 

With a tired crack of his neck and pop of his back he finished his TV dinner in silence, ignoring the deafening quiet that was only broken by his bites and the clock down the hall ticking. Shimmying out of his boots and pants he fell unto his bed with a grunt, thankful tomorrow was Saturday and he could spend it doing something else besides work.

 

But then of course the gratitude had to be cut short with the facing of the fact that he had no friends, if you can count the occasional beer with Jo and Bobby friendship. Once more his chest felt hollow and his shoulders weighed. He breathed in and out deeply, staring up at his ceiling with blank eyes. His eyes glanced down at the phone by him.

 

Grabbing it up he brought it close to his face, his fingers following a pattern long since remembered and typing in a number he longed to call. He eyes skimmed the face and number, his thumb hovering over the call button. He felt a lump form in his throat and his eyes sting in warning. He couldn't. He couldn’t do it just yet.

 

With a harsh 'damn it' he threw the phone off the side of the bed, covering his face with both hands, his breathing harsh. Slowly the hours ticked away and Dean's breathing quieted down into soft snores his phone blinked into power save mode, the face of his brother Sam and his number disappearing as the screen turned black.

 

 

Castiel felt terrible, he hadn't even given Dean the time of day. Probably disliked his very existence now, just what he needed. He didn't even think about it, but the thought of having a friend felt good, but he blew it, just like with Anna.

 

He sighed heavily, he began thinking about his brother, Lucifer. Most people called him Luke, from what he remembered. He didn't care that he was out of jail, he didn't really care about him at all. Period. But Anna, she was the one person who gave him some type of affection, before she left. Left the family, abandoned him. He learned to hide away his feelings, they only brought trouble. He never strayed, never even lifted a finger to what he was told to do- wrong or not-. He began to think about his father, his family. He opened his eyes, gazing at the ceiling. He remember when he cut himself off, he was so young but he did what he had to do. He turned over, closing the curtains that allowed light to stream in. He slept, slept to avoid thinking.

 

He woke up later, it appeared to be night. His clock read: 11:24 P.M. He wanted to sleep more, because his mind was wandering again. He had been able to avoid thinking of his family for years, ever since he left. Running away like Anna, like Gabriel. He watched the darkness, holding down any emotion that wanted to bubble over. Even though he was alone, he didn't enjoy feeling like this. Like total crap.

 

He still remembers that night, the night Lucifer was taken away in a fit of rage. His father, who he doesn't remember, brought home a woman, telling everyone that he was engaged. Though these were not his own memories, they were what he was told from Anna. No one knows why Lucifer attacked his father when he told the news, everyone just presumed he was already winded up and that anything could have tripped the wire.

 

Than, out of no where, he thought of Dean. He never fully assessed him, only noticing his rude behavior. Sifting through his memories, he still couldn't get a clear image of what he looked like. Although he remembered that false smile he threw around, he didn't know what it was, but something was hidden under those flashing teeth. He didn't want to know.

 

Eventually, he found sleep.

 

 

Dean woke at 4:59 AM sharp, even if he didn't have to, he didn't want to break the monotonous schedule he had set up. Turning his clock off on reflex he moved to the shower, stripping his clothes as he went. Soon enough he was under the steaming water and man did it feel nice. He sighed, enjoying the feel of boiling water singing his body until it turned a light pink.

 

He washed the shampoo and conditioner out far too soon and left the warm water, scrubbing his body dry with a towel. He stopped at the mirror, wrapping the towel around his waist and staring himself down. He rubbed a hand at his chin, deciding whether or not he should shave. He felt off, like he was too big -or small- for his own body, his eyes too dull and his skin too taught. He was too aware of himself, feeling the skin behind his knees and elbows, hearing the rush of his blood as it pound from his heart and throughout his system.

 

He breathing became erratic and the room enclosed around him, growing smaller and smaller until he felt he would not fit, and his lungs wanted to rip a scream so guttural out of him and for one second he couldn't understand where this was coming from. His panic, his utter and pure _terror_. Then in the distance of his mind he heard the shouting. The gunfire. The sirens. The sound of boots stampeding the ground for cover and all that left him was a whimper.

 

He fell to his knees, he could feel the eyes on him, pleading him to save them. The small hand grasping his as large eyes dulled into lifelessness and all he could do was watch and hold. He clung to his midsection with one arm, the other grasping the wall as he hurled his dinner onto the floor, his vision swimming with the images of gore and war and death. He needs to get somewhere safe. Somewhere where no one could look at him. Judge him. Where no one knew of what he had done and what he could do.

 

After what felt like hours of mind crushing pressure mixing with a terrorizing emptiness it all subsided, leaving him a shaking mess on the floor. He stood up slowly, wiping his mouth and recoiling in disgust as his eyes finally noticed the mess in front of him, his knuckles bloody from punching the wall. He cleaned the mess and his hands quietly, his mind fuzzy and buzzing.

 

He didn't want to be in this house right now. He couldn't. Not with the pictures staring down at him. Not with the walls becoming tighter and tighter and he shoved himself into clothes and sped out the door. Not with the feeling leaving him as his car screeched down the neighborhood and to the park he used to frequent when he was younger.

 

He gave himself a few moments t calm himself before exiting and looking semi-normal, flashing the woman and their kids a charming grin which caused them to giggle and look away. He went to the far corner of the playground and sat at the empty tire swing he made himself all those years ago, the weeping willow still supporting his weight without a creak.

 

 

By the time Castiel awoke, he felt refreshed. He got up, showered, put on a crisp suit and prepared breakfast. He ate quickly, thinking about what to do today. He decided, after years of nothing, he would get a date. He's never really had one, and he decided it was about time he did. That woman he saw at the cafe, she's attractive and seems charming. He could give her a try. Today would be good, but he knows to expect the worst.

 

When he was at the cafe he saw the woman, he couldn't see her tag from here. He walked up to the counter and admired her features. Her near black hair was in curls, hanging down her shoulders. Meg, that was her name. He shot her a smile, she grinned back.

 

He feels nervous, but he finds the courage and gets the words out, “Hey, Meg, is it? I wanted to know if you wanted to go out sometime?” To add affect, he grinned at the end.

 

Meg looked him in the eye and Castiel felt weak in the knees. Hmm, so this is what attraction feels like. She gave him a wicked smile, “What time, honey?”

 

“3:00 PM later?” Castiel replied.

 

She looked pleased and handed him a paper with her number and address on it. As he was walking out, she called out to him, “See you then.” and winked.

 

As Castiel headed home, he felt accomplished. Staring at his watch, 9:00 AM. The date a while away, but he feels that the hours will pass in no time.

 

 

Dean felt numb, the sound of children playing doing nothing to soothe him. He could appear better, hell he bet he could do movies professionally if you gave him the chance, but he can't control how his asshole of a brain made him feel. At least he could make himself smile and shine even if all he wanted to do was curl up and die. He swung around on the tire swing slowly, his body unable to fit properly so he had to slump to get his back into the hole.

 

As he swung about memories of chubby cheeks and grubby hands flashed into view, brown shaggy hair and little dimples. His brother Sam when he was younger and nothing was bad. Sure it was bad before but hell it was better than. He remembered making this swing for him, Sam only five and jumping up and down in excitement for his new swing because the other ones sucked.

 

He remembered all the times they played in this weeping willow, the long branches sweeping around them like a curtain creating their own world. He grinned grimly, knowing that those times were so far away and long ago there was no point for him to reminisce in them. Sam was different now. Especially after he left.

 

He chuckled, wondering what it must have been like being here all alone. He was gone for how many years? Six? Eight? All he knew is that they blurred together and eventually the letters stopped and when he returned home from the airport, expecting warm smiles and hugs, all he received was... an empty space where his family should have been and missed calls.

 

He could feel the pitying stares from his companions who had also decided to retire but he played it cool, saying they must be late. But of course they weren't. They never came. They didn't pick up his calls. They didn't fucking check up on him. He gave a small shout of frustration, standing roughly out of the swing and grabbing at the rope holding it to the swing he pulled out his pocket knife, cutting it efficiently and dropping the tire.

 

He pocketed the small knife and glared down at the small tire, his rage and anger bubbling until he picked up the rubber object, hurling it behind the weeping willow and breaking some of its branches, a small shimmer of light pouring in through the crack. He fell to his knees with a choked gasp, hating everything about this place and his life.

 

He felt empty and numb and alone and scared and sad and cold and angry and all he wanted was for someone to just _care_ for him. He screwed his relationship with his family to Timbuktu. And how? By doing what was right? By being the man his father led him to believe was the right one? Well fuck them. Fuck Sam. Fuck dad. Fuck mom. Just... he sighed.

 

He pulled himself into standing position and dusted off his jeans, walking out from underneath the tree and ignoring the prying stares from the mothers who now held their children closer as he walked past. He left to the nearest cafe (not that damn welcoming, motherly one) and sat down in a seat. Growling out his order to the skittish blonde waitress who hurried off to get his coffee. Becky or whatsit returned soon enough and he glared out the window, sipping his beverage every so often.

 

 

Castiel looked at the clock on the wall: 3:00 PM. He checked his suit, brushed his teeth and chewed some mint gum. He smiled at himself in the mirror, but it quickly faded. He thought about all of the things that could go wrong, but he pushed through them, burying the thoughts and looking at the slip of paper. Meg's house wasn't that long of a drive. He breathed in and out, relaxed, got in the car and drove to the destination.

 

At the house, Castiel looked at the house, it was small but it was well kept. He felt shaky and tried to stay calm, Don't lose your cool, Castiel thought, Just stay calm, it's just a date. Nothing more. Smoothing down his messy hair, he walked up to her door and knocked. No answer. Knocked again. Now he heard rustling, he felt his heart thump hard in his chest. She opened the door and Castiel gaped at the sight. She was wearing a short, black dress with gray flats. Her teeth were pure white and her lips were a vibrant red. Castiel smiled weakly.

 

“Where would you like to go?”

 

“To a cafe not far away from here, not the one I work at. I'll just tell you which ways to go.” Castiel thought she looked almost devilish.

 

He nodded and opened the door for her, she sat herself inside and closed the door herself. Once Castiel was inside he headed down the road, following her directions. She told him to stop, pointing at the building she wanted to go to. He parked the car and stepped out, this cafe looked much better than the other one and found it pleasing.

 

They were inside and seated in no time, holding up menus and chatting about simple things.

 

“So, what made you want to go on a date with me?” asked Meg.

 

“You seemed nice, so I thought why not.” He replied.

 

She nodded and once the waiter came she ordered for the both of them. The waiter wrote it down and walked down to the kitchen.

 

From the corner of his eye, Castiel noticed Dean. He was sitting alone and looked like a mess. He felt something stir inside of him -probably pity-.

 

Before Castiel knew what was happening, Meg had dragged him out of the building and up against a wall. He didn't know what to do. Was she coming on to him? Was she going to shove a knife in his gut? All of it came clear when she leaned up and kissed him. Castiel felt something he's never felt before and exhilaration rushed through him and before he could think he swiveled her around, pressed his lips against hers roughly and ran his fingers through her hair.

 

When Castiel pulled back, Meg looked at him with lust in her eyes, “Where did that come from?”

 

Castiel didn't know where it came from, but he just laughed and they both silently agreed that the date was over. He drove her home and said good bye.

 

He didn't think they'd be talking any time soon.

 

 

Dean sat there for what felt like an eternity, hours? He couldn't tell, all he knew is that the waitress every so often sent him pitying stares which made him want to gouge her eyes out. He grinned at that, though the imagery made his stomach lurch. He had enough of gore to last him a life time. He sat there boiling with anger at everything for sometime, the nice atmosphere and good coffee doing nothing to soothe his frayed nerves.

 

He checked his watch, eyebrows raising at the time. It was already three? He looked up at the sound of the door opening, in entering... that asshole Meg and... Castiel? He furrowed his brow, that's not right. He glared at Meg, her dress, her stupid lipstick, and Castiel's dumb grin. He doesn't know much about Meg if he can laugh with her like that.

 

He then remembered why Meg ticked him off so much, that was the bitch who messed with Sam while he was gone. Nothing to do with the fact she was talking with Castiel. Nothing at all. He grumbled to himself when he remembered how sad Sam sounded on the phone, telling him about the barista who messed around behind his back. Well as thanks for Castiel's _superb_ social skills he won't warn him.

 

He returned to drinking his cold coffee, decidedly glaring out the window and totally not glancing at the two love birds in the corner. After another hour of glowering at them they left, giggling like teenagers as they went, making Dean's chest feel more hollow than ever. This isn't his idea of calming down.

 

With one last gulp of his coffee he put down a five dollar bill, estimating the price before storming out without another word. He got into his car and drove off, not wanting to go to his house or be near that cafe. Grand, another place ruined for him. As he drove blindly he ended up near the convenience store near his workplace. Checking his gas he decided to get some here.

 

Pulling into one of the spaces he got out, checking the prices before entering the store only to stop dead in his tracks. There Castiel was standing dressed fancily in that trench coat that must have been over heating by now. But that's not what got him, what got him was the ruby red lipstick showing like a beacon on Castiel's pink lips.

 

He didn't why the hell that bothered him, or shot through him like red hot jealousy. What was he jealous of? He only noticed Castiel now because of that late house call. He didn't know anything else about the guy besides his house is perfect, he's touchy about his name, hes a holy tax accountant and the fact that he may or may not be developing some sort of strange crush on the awkward guy.

 

Oh well then.

 

Rolling his shoulders he shoved that thought to the back of his mind, he only knew him for a few days for fucks sake. Strolling up to Castiel he put on a flashy grin, even if it made him feel too tight and it once more didn't quite reach his eyes.

 

“Hey there Cas', I see you got lucky.” He said with an easy slide of his tongue and lips, even if the words left a foul taste in his mouth.

 

 

Castiel was smiling non stop after he dropped Meg off. He's never felt something like that before, it felt good. He hasn't felt good in a long time. His mind kept coming back to the kiss, the way it felt, how she moved against him. It felt fantastic. He stopped by the convenience store and stepped up to the door, about to enter before he noticed Dean at the gas station, he saw him look up and he didn't look happy. He looked like he was about to blow a gasket. What really bothered him was how his face transformed the moment he looked at him. Now he knew he hated him. He felt queasy when Dean walked up to him and looked down at his lips.

 

“Hey there Cas', I see you got lucky.” He sounded nonchalant.

 

Castiel turned around and looked at the window, he could see his reflection clearly. His lips were stained red from Meg's lipstick. He felt hot with embarrassment and quickly used his hand to wipe it away. He saw Deans eyes flicker at his lips again, maybe there was still lipstick on them. He licked his lips nervously and tasted the bitterness of the red lipstick. He didn't know how woman did it.

 

Castiel cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. Meg, I don't think you know her.” He didn't like this conversation, it felt awkward.

 

He saw Dean nod and head back to his car, he headed in the other direction. He didn't feel like eating anything from the store, his stomach felt sour and he just wanted to get home.

 

When he was home-sweet-home, he checked himself in the mirror. No lipstick. When he was relaxed, sipping water and sprawled out on his bed he thought back to his conversation with Dean. He had called him 'Cas'. Why would he nickname someone he hated? He felt something stir in him again, suddenly clear images of Dean filled his mind and he needed to throw up. Whatever he was feeling he didn't like it. It was new.

 

After swishing water in his mouth to rid it of the foul taste he needed to lay down. He changed his course of thoughts to Meg. Kissing her felt good, but it didn't feel right. He'll think about it later. But he knows he wont do that, he'll just bury it like every other worrisome thought he's ever had.

 

 

Dean's grin felt like it was splitting his face but he kept it on, his eyes crinkling around the edges in the smallest enjoyment at Castiel's embarrassment. Castiel turned back to him and Dean righted his features once more, though he couldn't help the small tinge of _want_ that went through him when Castiel nervously licked his lips. He returned his eyes to the other man's blue ones quickly before anything got too awkward.

 

Not that the awkwardness didn't of course settle in.

 

Dean felt he should say something else, warn him of Meg, ask for his number for some totally just platonic bro time, make small talk. He didn't know, but when he opened his mouth he could only close it at Castiel's lost look. He didn't know how to deal with this. And he didn't want to deal with this right now. He gave a small nod to Castiel before walking off, paying for his gas and snacks and making a quick escape.

 

As soon as he was home he stripped himself of his jacket and boots, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to ease the stress that sat there like an immoveable force. He payed it no heed, he was used to the weight and hollowness long ago.

 

He took a moment to look around his living room, relief flooding him when the walls no longer shrunk and the pictures no longer scorned him. He made his way into the kitchen, rooting around for any left overs feeling way too exhausted to cook anything (be it microwavable or not). He stood at the counter and ate a cold slice of pizza, reviewing his small talk with Castiel.

 

Which made him nearly sputter out his food. He called him _Cas_. Not _Castiel_. He groaned out loud and pinched the bridge of his nose, done with today and all its wonders. Making his way to his bedrooms bathroom he took a few sleeping pills, along with a few he didn't like to think about and settle to sleep, not bothering to change into sleep ware. Before long he was snoring loudly and his phone still left laying on the floor by him.

 

 

Castiel woke up that day, he didn't want to do anything. Not even think. He showered, changed, brushed his teeth, ate breakfast, cleaned, watched TV, ate lunch, ate dinner and went to sleep. He felt tired, over spent.

 

He dreamt of Dean and Meg and Anna and Gabriel and Lucifer and Micheal. He just dreamed and the dreams didn't seem to end. Until finally he woke up the next day. The day he would actually talk to Dean and get his feelings straight. Did he hate him, did he consider him a friend? He knew he'd find it out today. Or not.

 

 

It had been three weeks and Dean had gotten no where with Castiel. He would see him places, they would make the most painful, cringe worthy small talk before moving on. Often without saying good bye. Dean liked to consider it a very long first chat. Or that Castiel really wanted nothing to do with him which he could respect considering no one else wanted to. Not even his own family. He grimaced and locked those thoughts down.

 

It was another Saturday, which meant another empty day of nothing. It was one and he already drank one bottle of beer, although it took way more than that to even give him a pleasant buzz. So he may have a slight addiction, who cares? He shucked the bottle into the trash and decided to frequent the cafe which he noticed Castiel went to often. Thankfully it wasn't that one with that nosy waitress or the one with Meg.

 

As he entered the small coffee shop he took a seat by the window, knowing Castiel would take the seat in the far corner. That wasn't stalkerish of him. No, not at all. As he waited for Castiel to inevitably arrive he thought back to his previous week, not much happening per usual. He had attempted to call his brother a few more times but as he always did, he chickened out at the last moment.

 

He began tapping some ACDC songs beat on his table when the little doors bell rung and entered Castiel, who took a second to stumble his feet when their eyes met, Dean flashing him what he hoped was a charming grin. Castiel hurried off to his seat, ordering his drink quietly and Dean straightened his collar, picking up his coffee and making his way over to Castiel.

 

He took the seat just across from him, hoping it wasn't weird of him to do that (even if by now they must be acquaintances -awkward ones, but acquaintances nonetheless), settling his arms criss cross on the table and trying his best not to look at Castiel's features to closely.

 

“Hey Cas, how has your day gone so far?” He said, his smile feeling slightly more genuine than its been for sometime, the sight of Castiel's messy black hair that never seemed tamed, his blue eyes that have been haunting Dean and his kissable as hell lips. He kept his eyes in place however and maintained eye contact.

 

 

Castiel hadn't talked to Dean in a while, it's not that he didn't want to, it was because he didn't want to feel at that time. He cut himself off again, holding back emotions. When he saw Dean, he spoke to him very little and left. This went on for weeks.

 

When he went to the Cafe, he stood at the door, preparing for the worst. When he walked through the doors he saw Dean looking his way and locked eyes with him, not on purpose. He quickly broke the connection and sat at the table in the corner. He ordered his usual coffee and looking down at his hands that were neatly placed on the table. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean make his way to his table, he felt like shrinking back, he felt like hiding. But it was too late, Dean was there, standing in front of him holding his drink.

 

Castiel saw him smile, it was a warm one, not a hint of being faked. “Hey Cas, how has your day been so far?”

 

He was feeling whoozy just looking at him, he could feel his heart hit his ribcage with every beat. He felt the blood being pushed throughout his body and just stared at him.

 

He opened his mouth, licking his dry lips, about to say something when the waiter arrived with his drink. He said thank you to the waiter and found his mouth extremely dry, and chugged his coffee. He saw Dean just watching him, looking out the window and then back at him.

 

After gulping down more than half of his drink, Castiel wiped his mouth and looked up at Dean before looking back down. He chocked out the words, “I've been good. You?”

 

He found the courage to look Dean in the eye, he saw a sadness that he wasn't able to see before, and it felt like a punch in the gut.

 

 

Dean felt like smiling like the Cheshire cat, glad he was able to catch Castiel this time without the other man trying to escape the moment they glance in each others general direction. He didn't know why Castiel avoided him, thinking it due to Dean being an overall shitty person, but Dean was determined to get a friend. Why? He didn't know, he usually avoided others but something about Castiel made him want to get to know him.

 

He felt a rush of warmth when Castiel avoided his gaze in an adorable fashion, choosing to pay all attention to his drink until he couldn't any longer. He leaned back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting an arm on the back of his chair. His shoulders weight lessening just the slightest, his chest feeling warm. He hadn't been able to talk with another person besides Jo (and that's when hes pestered to give himself over sexually) and Bobby (and he was like a grouchy uncle) so talking to Castiel was a strange -but nice- change of pace.

 

He may not like disrupting his schedule but today was Saturday and for once he felt like he had something to chase after instead of his next bottle of beer and what to watch next. When Castiel finally gained the courage to look into his eyes he seemed shocked by something for a moment, as if his air was knocked out of him. He recovered rather quickly and Dean decided not to think about that.

 

“I've been good, works been nice to me, I think Bobby's gonna give me a raise. How about your work Cas?” He liked saying Castiel's nickname, even if he didn't mean to give it to him, it slid easy from his tongue. He motioned the barista down and asked for another coffee and one apple scone.

 

 

Castiel felt happy, not giddy, but overall just happy. He was able to look into Dean's eyes without wanting to flee and it felt good. It felt wonderful.

 

Dean told him about his work, about his soon to be raise and all while Dean was talking Castiel was paying close attention to him, his features, his eyes. He wanted to read him, know his secrets and discover who he truly was. But something scared him away from that dream, one more second of gazing into those pools of emotion and he thought he'd get pulled in, but he didn't look away. He saw his pupils dilate, though not too much.

 

He told him about his own work, about how he already got a raise a week ago and was planning on getting a cat. He smiled at Dean, but quenched the smile when he began to feel too much. It came again, he didn't want to be here, yet he wanted to stay with Dean. He felt conflicted. Under the table he clenched his fists and swallowed hard. His breathing came faster and faster, until he was able to calm himself down. It was only Dean, the man who repaired his car. He was nothing more, just a friend.

 

 

Dean tried his best to ignore Castiel's wandering eyes though he couldn't deny it made his stomach flutter. He was finally getting some where with Castiel! He felt a grin stretch across his features and he didn't mind (he did a bit). He rolled his shoulders and sipped at his coffee which had just arrived, trying to decipher whether or not Castiel was holding back a smile or a grimace. Either way his furrowed brow was cute.

 

Cute.

 

Hm. He was really getting too comfortable. He bit into his lower lip, a sudden discomfort growing over him. No no he was fine, he was just hanging out with his -acquaintance? friend? he didn't know- and having a nice chat. That was it, really. He could scoff at how much he could deny with one easy thought, but then again he's had years of practice, hasn't he?

 

He felt his shoulders tense and his features darken, him trying his best not to dwell to much on thoughts he'd rather not have. Castiel didn't say anything in return and stared down at his coffee and Dean fidgeted around in his seat. So he'd have to be the talker today. Maybe try being friendly. Get to know the guy a little before he puts too much stock in him.

 

Leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms behind it as a rest he gave Castiel an easy smile. “So you have any favorite TV shows? You watch football?”

 

 

Castiel stared at his coffee, wanting to take a drink but not wanting to move.

 

He looked up when Dean asked, “So you have any favorite TV shows? You watch football?”

 

He looked him straight in the eye and said no, but he does enjoy reading the Sherlock Holmes Mystery series. He didn't say anything else. But Dean didn't either.

 

Castiel feared that he would open up to Dean, that meant sharing thoughts, sharing feelings. He just didn't feel ready for it. For any commitment, friend or anything else. That made him think. Did he like Dean? Was he attracted to him? Well, he was an attractive man, his stubble adding to the look. He liked looking at his eyes, which were a true green. It didn't look like he was the type to wear contacts. He looked at his clothes, decent. He especially admired his leather coat. He would later ask where he had bought it.

 

Although Castiel didn't like feeling, he was falling in love with the way he felt now. He felt light and free, and he craved more of it. Breathing in and out he turned his head towards the waitress coming to their table. She asked if they wanted anything else, he shook his head. As the waitress walked away he saw Dean wink at her and the woman giggled. This made Castiel a little ticked off, but he didn't know why. He puffed up a little and sat up straighter.

 

When Dean turned his attention back to him he asked, “Why do you try so hard to talk to me?” He realized his mistake and instantly looked away. He probably shouldn't have asked it, but he was curious. He already suspected the answer to come, something about blah blah blah that wouldn't answer his question.

 

He turned his head to Dean in hopes of getting a reply, than looked him directly in the eye. He looked panicked, but instantly calm all in the same moment. He just sat and waited.

 

 

Dean gulped. Well then. He didn't expect shy Castiel to be so forward. He moved to sit straighter in his seat, settling his feet firmly on the ground and bringing his hands onto the table. He stared down at apple scone steaming on the little plate, the receipt holding numbers and a scribbles 'call me' with a little heart. At least he could still get ladies. He looked back up at Castiel and studied the mans features.

 

Castiel was for lack of a better word, gorgeous. He had a defined jaw with a little amount of stubble that Dean found he -disturbingly- liked. His eyes were virtually the bluest hes ever seen and god don't get him started on those lips. But he also found Castiel cute, which he didn't want to admit ever because cute is not a manly word. His quirks hes encountered so far have been endearing (even if they were being used in an attempt to push Dean away).

 

But why did he want to get to know Castiel? Well to put it short he was lonely. And sick and tired of his life. As he decided three weeks ago he was sick and tired of waiting for something that wasn't going to happen. Fuck his mother, father, brother. He can't keep waiting for them. His entire life revolved around them. His entire reasoning for joining the corps was for his father. His life has been day in day out and he wants something different.

 

He wanted his life to have something else besides bad TV shows and beers and his fucking attacks and this hollow emptiness he feels in the very pit of his soul and the heavy weight that's settled on his shoulder since the first time he fired his gun. He wanted something _new_. He looked back up into Castiel's eyes, even if he never noticed him before, even if he only met him three weeks ago, even if it only happened because of that late house call, he wanted a friend. A lover. Maybe. Just someone who generally gives a crap about him.

 

“I...” he cleared his throat and took a drink of his coffee before continuing. “I guess its been some time since I've had a decent person to talk to?” He paused, the words feeling stupid. “No... That's not it. Look for the past few years my life has been one big fucking clock day in day out and I just want something new, a friend, someone I can talk to.” He purposely left out the lover tidbit, not wanting to scare him away.

 

He scratched the back of his neck and fixed the cuffs of his jacket, feeling his cheeks dust lightly with pink as he straightened his back, trying to appear confident. Although his worried eyes gave him away.

 

 

Castiel wasn't expecting such a straight forward answer, and he was satisfied, but even more curious. He liked Dean, that was true. But he couldn't tell whether or not Dean liked him back. He hid his emotions so well that no matter how many times he searched his face he didn't find a clue. That is, except for now. He noticed a very slight pink cloud over his freckles, it was a nice sight.

 

He looked down and smiled. He got the reply he wanted and was happy with it. He just wanted to know more about Dean, knowing that he has a crappy life isn't going suffice either. He leaned back, finally bringing the coffee to his mouth and taking a drink. It wasn't warm anymore, but he needed liquid and it would have to do. Then, something new. He, without thinking, propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, getting a better look of him.

 

He gave him a general smile and said, “Well I think you've found yourself a friend.”

 

After getting the words out, he leaned back and looked at the ceiling and then looked back at Dean.

 

Dean felt the air rush out of him and then back again in one wave of relief when Castiel gave him a small smile and told him he found himself a friend. A friend. Friend. _Friend_. He felt himself giving a stupid grin, ignoring the niggling voices in the back of his head telling him of all the glorious things that could go wrong. He didn't care, he had someone he could talk to now, someone to hang out with. That made him happier than he could put into words.

 

His posture became more relaxed as he ate his scone, giving a hum of delight at the flavor now that he wasn't worried he could finally taste. He looked back up at Castiel, his shoulders feeling easier now as he thought he had a friend. A thought hit him and he pulled out some paper, scribbling his number on it and handing it to him.

 

“That's my number and adress, since I already know where you live I felt it fair.” He gave a chuckle, swiping at his nose. He looked around again, his Saturday already looking up. He checked his watch and another idea hit him. “Hey a show that I watch in my free time is showing the first season again, want to come over and watch it?”

 

 

Castiel was satisfied to see Dean relax, he's happy that he could make Dean happy. That's new. Dean offered for Castiel to come over to watch some TV show, he happily agreed and he was able to finish his coffee.

 

He was looking at the scone Dean was eating, he was hungry and that scone was tempting. His hand flinched but he knew that snatching the treat wasn't a good idea. Instead he ordered himself a peach cobbler and devoured it when it arrived. He was a bit uncomfortable when he noticed Dean looking at him eat but he didn't say anything. After a while he felt rather safe having Dean watching over him, strange.

 

After he finished his pie he told Dean that he'd be over later. They said their good byes and went their separate ways. Castiel was excited about his night later with Dean. He, himself, considered it a 'date' before rethinking it. They were friends, just friends hanging out watching TV. Nothing more.

 

Once at home, Castiel pulled out Dean's number. Going over it a couple times, memorizing it. Then he sat down and waited, it was about 4:00 PM. He would leave in four hours, plenty of time to get ready and just chill. Only he didn't want to wait.

 

 

Dean was finishing his scone, making note to pick some up later for a quick dinner. He noticed Castiel eying his food and was about to offer some of it before he ordered himself a peach cobbler. Dean shrugged and finished up the last bits of his tasty delight, wiping his fingers off on his jeans before turning his full attention to the mesmerizing scene before him.

 

He knew he shouldn't stare but he couldn't hep but trace his eyes over Castiel's full lips and pink tongue enclosing around the food over and over. His mind taking the imagery and shuffling it away for later usage, already supplying beautiful images of it surrounding something else entirely. If Castiel noticed his blatant staring then he didn't make note of it. He licked his dry lips and took a drink of his cold coffee, blocking the images before Dean Jr got too excited.

 

Soon enough Castiel finished up and Dean flicked his eyes immediately back up into the baby blues, flashing him a grin to cover the other look he had going. Best not to look predatory at your new friends now. They told each other good bye, Dean leaving with an honest to god smile on his face. He got to his house sooner than he thought and gave a wince at the state his house was in. He was usually a cleanly person (contrary to popular belief) but didn't really have the motivation to clean as of recent.

 

He straightened up the living room the best he could, preparing a bit of food before setting it down on the table. He was going to call Castiel to come over around eight, but realized only then that he gave him his phone number and address, but didn't ask for the guys number. He groaned and smacked his hand into his forehead. He was bored and decided a shower was in order, still smelling like oil and car engines.

 

No matter how hard he scrubbed he still smelled like leather and oil, hoping it wouldn't bother Castiel he got out, giving up on ridding himself of the stench. He wrapped a towel around his waist and was about to pull clothes on when he heard someone knock on his door. He looked down, wondering if he should get more decent before answering. Then again, he didn't look bad, hell he was in the military (the Marines no less) he better not.

 

He gave a rough 'coming' before walking over to the door, opening it to reveal a nervous looking Castiel.

 

Well then. He gave a small chuckle.

 

“You're early.”

 

 

Castiel was heading to his car and turned on the engine, only then realizing he didn't know where Dean lived. He quickly pulled out the paper and was relieved to see the address clearly printed on it. He drove off of his drive way and headed to Deans house. He was still in his suit, but who cares.

 

When he finally found the street his house was on he parked and hoped Dean wouldn't be annoyed that he was early. When he was at the door he rung the door bell and waited. He heard him holler “Coming!” and became even more nervous. It wasn't a date or anything, right? He stood up straight and his eyes widened slightly when he saw that Dean had apparently just hopped out of the shower. He looked down at the floor.

 

“You're early.” Dean said.

 

“Uh, yeah.” He said weakly before politely walking around him.

 

He saw that his living room was neat -not as neat as his- but neat. He saw two separate couches placed in front of a rather small TV. He sat himself in one and found it uncomfortable but didn't mention it. He watched Dean roll his shoulders and head back into his bedroom. He presumed he was getting dressed, so he sat patiently. He saw pictures on the walls, they looked like family. He didn't know Dean had family. Well, having a crappy life usually involves having a crappy family. He sighed and waited for Dean to return.

 

 

Dean greeted Castiel with a nod before motioning him inside, eyebrows raising when Castiel already began entering. He shuffled inside after him, noticing Castiel pull a face just the slightest when he sat down on one of the couches he owned. Well he wasn't the richest guy around he muttered underneath his breath, giving his shoulders a roll before moving to his bedroom to put some clothes on.

 

He threw on a black wife beater and some torn jeans, padding back into his living room with a small smile.

 

“So yeah my show doesn't come on for another four hours so...” He reached around into one of the drawers he had positioned near the couch, pulling out some cards. “Want to play some card games or something?”

 

 

Castiel shook his head. Swallowing a lump in his throat, which he almost thought was his heart, told Dean, “Actually, um,I'm a bit thirsty. May I go into your kitchen?”

 

He heard Dean say it was fine and saw him disappear into his kitchen, coming out with two beers.

 

He didn't drink, but hey, it was a one time thing. He took the drink and popped it open, disliking the taste at first but beginning to enjoy it. He saw that Dean had already finished his. Damn, that was fast. He moved in his seat, finding that it squeaked loudly every time he re-positioned himself. He swore he heard Dean chuckle.

 

 

Dean walked into the kitchen to grab two beers upon the request of Castiel feeling thirsty. He felt himself smile wider, glad he had someone to share his beer with for he first time. He popped his open and handed the other to Castiel, slumping down next to him, messing with the cards he left on the coffee table. After Castiel drank half of his Dean had already finished his first, thinking on whether or not he should get another one.

 

He heard Castiel shuffle in his seat, chuckling at the dark look Castiel sent down at it when it squeaked at every small movement. He muffled it when Castiel sent the sharp look up at him, sending him a mock innocent expression.

 

“Yeah I'm not the richest guy, just gotta get used to it.” He said, scratching his nose before leaning over to grab the remote. “So since card games are out what about TV, anything you want to watch?”

 

 

Castiel told him that he didn't mind what channel they watched, Dean happily obliged and flipped to a channel he seemed to enjoy.

 

Castiel wasn't watching the TV, he was watching Dean. The sly smiles that found his face every time something funny happened on the show he was watching. He wondered if Dean noticed, after that thought crossed his mind he instantly watched the TV instead. Laughing when Dean laughed. An hour, than two went by in no time.

 

 

Dean turned the TV on and surfed until he landed on NCIS, which wasn't his favorite show but it still was a pretty awesome one. He in no time became absorbed in the show, trying his best to ignore Castiel's eyes on his face (he was more observant than people thought). He laughed at the jokes and cheered on the characters, every so often shouting “it's that guy come on!” and giving a loud cheer when the found the culprit.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when Castiel turned his attention back to the show, he didn't like being watched, it made him feel uneasy. Anxious. He shucked those thoughts away, he was in company, it would be a bad time to lose it. He took this time to glance at his clock, excited that it was nearing eight. He turned to Castiel and took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was here and indeed hanging out with him.

 

Dean had actually successfully socialized. He then remembered that girls number. Should he call her later? Would he even have fun? He didn't know if he should or not but decided to think later on the subject.

 

He felt like talking but didn't know what to talk about since it had been a long time since he had an actual person to talk to. So instead he turned his full attention to Castiel and pointed his hands to the TV, asking silently what he thought about the show playing currently.

 

 

Castiel saw Dean motion towards the TV, silently asking what he thought of it. He smiled, nodded and gave him a thumbs up. When he was certain Dean was absorbed in the show he got up and looked around for his bathroom. When he found one in the hall way he turned on the lights and looked at himself in the mirror.

 

He splashed his face and dried it, attempting to look refreshed. He tried to dry his wet hair quickly, but he didn't want to be absent long so he hung up the towel, feeling the droplets hit his forehead. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get it less wet at the front.

 

When he returned he saw that Dean was no longer at the couch, he sat down and waited for him to return.

 

 

Dean watched Castiel get up and leave, wondering where he was heading off too. Then again he probably had to go to the bathroom. He shrugged it off (or tried too, knowing him) and went back to the show. A few minutes later his bladder came knocking and he rushed to his closest one, only to hear water running. Cursing under his breath he ran to his bedroom one, the one he didn't really feel comfortable in anymore.

 

He opened the door, a shiver running down his spine at the cold feeling the room contained. He flicked the lights on and refused to even glance in the mirror, seeing his ducked head and slumped shoulders in his periphery. It made him feel sick and he couldn't even muster a pleased sigh as he released. He dried off and zipped his pants up, the pit in his stomach now like weighted boulders.

 

With some form of sick curiosity he stopped at the mirror, chancing a glance at himself. Staring back at him was a twisted version of himself, his skin a gray gnarled tint, his eyes an empty space staring back at him. He felt like screaming, letting his terror be known when the other him gave him a tilted head and smile, but his throat had closed. He fell to the floor, pressing his back into the wall.

 

He tossed onto his knees, gripping his head as once more everything in his vision twisted itself, the chants and cries of the lost echoing in his ears, mocking him. He hands pulled at his hair, his breath coming out in short pants and pained gasps. He hated this. He hated it here. He wants it to be over. To forget what he had done. He gripped the floor, staring down at it with blank eyes.

 

The pressure became unbearable, the hollowness in his chest expanding and expanding until he felt that he no longer existed.

 

After what felt like an eternity, he came down once more, his head spinning and mind a blur. He stood up, wincing at the blood underneath his nails. Taking some warm water he brushed it through his scalp, the heat stinging but soothing the cuts all at once. With a weary hand he dried his hair and rolled his shoulders, glad to find the pressure lessened, at least for now.

 

He entered the living room to find Castiel sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. He sat down next to him with a false grin, his cheeks hurting at the stretch of skin.

 

“Wait long? When you gotta go you gotta go.” He said with a chuckle that even puppies would wince at.

 

 

Castiel heard Dean coming in -his footsteps weren't the quietest- and kept looking at the TV screen. When he heard him sit down, he turned his head to look at him. He look disheveled, his hair was a mess and looked as if he had attempted to pat it down.

 

Spread across his face was a painful looking grin and he said, “Wait long? When you gotta go you gotta go.” When he chuckled it didn't sound real, more forced.

 

Castiel knew he didn't feel like he looked and he needed to get a closer look at him. Too bad there wasn't any way to do that without getting but a few inches from his face, not that he wouldn't like to do that.

In the poorly lit lighting, he couldn't get a good look at his eyes, no matter how many times he tried.

 

Eventually he got up, walked by Dean and managed to get a quick glance at him, he looked terrible. There were bags under his eyes and his face was darker than it was when he arrived. To make it looked like he got up for a reason, he went to examine the photos before sitting back down. Catching a second glance, now at his eyes, he looked sad. He just wanted to scoop him up and hug him, even though the man was bigger and most likely heavier than him.

 

Castiel said to no one in particular, “Nice show.”

 

 

Dean rubbed a hand down his face when he knew Castiel wasn't looking, attempting to rid himself of the exhaustion striking through him. He shrugged an arm behind the couch, the other resting on the arm of the couch, his legs propped up on the small rickety table. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't focus on the TV show, his eyes constantly going in and out of focus, the images previous still haunting his mind. It was nearing eight and even that did nothing to lift his spirits.

 

The show ended and the commercials for the reshowing of Game of Thrones season one came on, Castiel commenting to the air that the series before was nice.

 

“Yeah, its not bad. Though Game of Thrones is the one you'll really want to see.” He said, his voice rough from his moment in the bathroom. He swallowed, rubbing at the base of his neck before standing up. “I'm just gonna get us some more drinks and some snacks.” He said with another grin that hurt, moving away into the kitchen for some quiet to calm himself.

 

Then again he didn't like quiet much. It was always quiet before something happened. At least to him. So in turn he tried to make small noises as he went, bumping into the counter a bit too hard, opening the refrigerator with more force than necessary. The clinking of the bottles he grabbed were soothing, knowing that he could find some comfort in the liquid.

 

He grabbed a few bags of chips, some already popped popcorn, and made his way back into the living room, setting them down in front of them and resettling back onto the creaky couch, the squeaks in protest helping his frayed nerves.

 

 

Castiel waited for Dean as he went to the kitchen for some snacks, he desperately wanted to go with him. He felt that Dean didn't need to be alone, but he didn't move. He flinched, but didn't dare get up. When he had returned with drinks, popcorn and snacks he found that he wasn't hungry. Seeing Dean in whatever condition he was in made him uneasy.

 

When the show began he didn't even realize it until Dean handed him a bag of chips. He took it, thinking about letting their fingers graze but chose against it. Tearing open the bag he attempted to eat some but found it difficult keeping them down and set the bag down by his feet.

 

He wasn't thirsty or hungry all throughout the show, he didn't pay attention to it until he heard Dean mention that it was over.

 

He didn't realize how fast the time went by, and it made him sad knowing that he would have to leave. He got up, saying that he had a good time and went to the door. He saw Dean go after him, telling him to have a good night. Out of habit, Castiel held out his hand for a hand shake before quickly pulling it back when Dean didn't respond.

 

He went to his car and drove home, nothing really happened. And now he wasn't sure if he really wanted anything to happen at all.

 

 

Dean barely payed attention to the show, too busy watching Castiel and running over recent events. His brains till felt hazy from that last attack and he knew he would have to take his medicine when the other left. He didn't know why that thought bothered him. Or which one really. He hated the fact he had to take medicine and he didn't like that Castiel would leave once the first episode was over. He knew that they would be showing all of them but he didn't know if Castiel would want to stay.

 

Would he? Should he mention it? The show was over and Dean asked him what he thought about it, Castiel saying it was a fun show, but before Dean could mention they would be showing more Castiel stood and took to the door. He turned back to face Dean and told him he had fun, holding a hand out to him.

 

“Well uh... You know they,” he stopped himself. “You have a good night it was fun.” He said, keeping his eyes firmly on the others. Castiel's hand was still hanging out and Dean didn't feel like shaking his hand back, in fear he would not let go. Or worse, the contact would singe him. He didn't know if he could take contact right now. Not with how he was feeling.

 

He watched Castiel leaved and heaved a breath the moment the white car disappeared from sight. Rushing to the other bathroom (the one that didn't close in until he couldn't breath) he grabbed his pills, taking a bit too many than necessary but he didn't care and he just wanted to sleep. But then again a good distraction was needed first.

 

He picked up his phone and dug around his pocket, pulling out the waitress's number from before. Dialing it he put on his most charming voice, she playing along until they agreed to meet at his place. She pulled up and soon enough they were sharing drinks in the most creative of ways, him locking his panic down so he could get lost in the feeling of skin on skin.

 

By three they were both in bed and in the throes of passion. By five they were finished and the girl was waving him bye, whispering in his ear to call him if he wanted another round. After she left he went back to his kitchen, deciding some alcohol was in order.

 

He went and chugged an entire bottle of beer down, relaxing as the smooth liquor poured down his throat. With that he grabbed a few more and settled on the couch, deciding that he deserved a break from today. As time went on he drank a few more bottles before passing out on his couch, mostly due to the pills and the exhaustion finally taking hold of him.

 

 

A few more months went by without a word from Dean, Castiel didn't mind because he wasn't sure what to do. He felt like a coward, but what else was he supposed to do? He saw Dean everywhere, eventually noticing him less and less. Sometimes he saw him in his dreams, heard his voice but then nothing more. He thought of that night with Dean and wondered what he did after he left, he never took time to think about it.

 

His car failed him again, but he didn't call the repair shop, just in case Dean was sent over. He managed to barely fix it himself and it worked fine. When he drove around town in the wee hours of the morning he saw Dean jogging with ear buds jammed in his ears, never even noticing him.

 

Out of nowhere Castiel dreamt of Dean vividly. He hugged him, felt his warmth against him before waking up, groggy and confused. The dream happened more and more and it worried him, he hadn't even talked to the guy since three months ago, why the hell is he dreaming of him in that way? He shrugged it off, did his work and drank his coffee.

 

He once bumped into Dean, he apologized and said nothing more. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean stay still for a moment and then continued walking. He was positive now that he had successfully cut him out of his life. He felt terrible about it, when he had told him he had found a friend. Now he hated himself for it. He had to fix this, or at least try.

 

He went to the store near Deans house and picked up some beer, knowing Dean liked it from the last time he was over.

 

He drove to his house, hoping that the beer would make up for showing up out of the blue.

 

He knocked on the door and waited for a reply.

 

 

After that Saturday Castiel didn't call, in fact, he seemed to be dodging him. The first month Dean debated calling Castiel, but just like he did with his brother, he couldn't do it. He spent his free days once more drinking and looking at his phone, yelling obscenities at the faces on his walls. By the second month Dean gave up on having a social life again, going back to the way he used to be. Occasionally talking to Bobby or going out to drinks with Jo, although he rarely talked during those moments.

 

Half way through the second month he had another attack, and ending up breaking the photos on his walls, his knuckles bloody and split. The police were called then, his neighbors unable to handle the panicked screaming and bullet shots coming from his house. They burst through his door and he ended up shooting at them, shouting in a middle eastern language that no one understood. They restrained him and took him to the police station until his therapist had him brought to the hospital for medical treatment.

 

As he sat in the white sterile beds at the hospital for the week he was detained he stared at the phone by his bedside. He expected a call. Something. _Anything_ from his family. But they didn't call and he could only take the pitying looks from the nurses too much before he turned over and forced himself to sleep. When he was released and returned he noticed his house was cleaned up, the photo's of his family removed (via word from his therapist).

 

He choked down a sob at how empty his house seemed once more, his eyes cold and scanning the area that was now renewed and fixed. He rubbed a hand at his neck and sat patiently at his couch, knowing that his therapist would be here soon enough to get him to talk about his 'feelings' and what triggered this attack. He of course never told her and didn't tell her about the other ones, knowing she would eventually give up and tell him to call whenever he needed to talk.

 

He never does, but she still offers.

 

After that he felt numb. He was in the hospital and his family still didn't call him. He made (or thought) a friend but ended up screwing that up somehow. Sometimes he would see Castiel around, but he didn't have the energy to try and talk to him anymore. They one time ran into one another, Castiel looking at his feet while he muttered an apology before scurrying off. Dean taking one moment to fight the urge to tell him to wait the fuck up and ask him what he did wrong.

 

He didn't.

 

It was Thursday and Bobby told him to take the day off, not being able to handle the strange silence he that overcame him. He arrived at one and settled himself arrow straight on the couch, just staring at the blank TV screen. He didn't want to watch anything, he didn't want to do anything. Hell he didn't even want to _drink_. He just sat there for hours, waiting for night to arrive so he could sleep and get up for work the next day.

 

By three he heard a timid knock on his door. He paused, an eye peeking towards his front door, wondering who was trying to come over. He stood up slowly, cracking his neck and moving to it. Opening it slowly he saw Castiel, glaring down at his feet and holding a six pack of beer. Eyes timidly coming up every few seconds to look at him but immediately going back down.

 

Dean didn't feel anything. He expected too, but he didn't. He just wanted to know why Castiel was here and what did he want from Dean. He didn't want to give the other man a chance to hurt him.

 

“Yes?” He said roughly, eyes hard.

 

 

Castiel finally looked up at Dean, his voice was harsh and unforgiving. His grip tightened on the beer pack and he didn't know what to tell him. He wanted to tell him that he didn't do anything, that it was himself that screwed up and hid himself away.

 

“I,” He paused, “It's just um, been a long time, and uh, I brought beer.” The words tasted sour in his mouth. He saw inside of his house, the pictures were gone. He looked back down and saw bandages on Dean's hands, worry filled him and he almost lurched.

 

He tried to smile, barely being able to put on a grin. He saw nothing when he looked into Dean's eyes, like he had given up. His face was tired and his clothes were worn down. Castiel really hoped there was a way to fix their long forgotten -almost- friendship. This time, he would be the repair man.

 

 

Dean felt like softening his stance when Castiel stuttered with his words, but he didn't have the energy to do so. He just stood there, staring down the mop of black hair. Castiel finally spoke, mentioning the time frame and Dean scoffed at that, but quieted down when Castiel timidly mentioned he brought alcohol. He laughed at that. Loudly. He couldn't help himself.

 

Only Castiel would bring beer this awkwardly after being one so long of no speaking. His laugh felt hollow and he wiped at his eyes, returning his stance to his full height and squaring his shoulders again. He saw Castiel cast worried glances towards his fists and house, and even if it ticked him off he let it go. He was too tired to snap at people right now. Castiel gave a small (forced) smile at his laughter, most likely not understanding what set Dean off. By the time Castiel found the courage to look at him in the eyes again he was already back to normal.

 

Dean turned his body to the sided, gesturing with his head and hands for him to enter, which Castiel gave a small nod and scurried in, sitting the six pack on the table that no longer squeaked and sat down on the couch that no longer made noise. Dean in his free time took to building, making his house better every time he felt he couldn't take the empty and deafening silence.

 

He sat himself next to Castiel, looking at the six pack and back to the other man, calculating what he was here for.

 

“What do you want?” He asked, attempting to make his voice sound less feral and more polite.

 

 

Castiel went inside quickly when Dean gestured him inside. The place looked new, but empty. He sighed and set the beer down and sat on the couch. No squeak, new. He looked around and saw Dean settle himself down.

 

Castiel could hear restraint in Dean's voice when he asked, “What do you want?”

 

But that was just it. He didn't know what he wanted. He wanted to do a lot of things, for himself and for Dean. He felt like the worst person in the world, then something hit him.

 

He had abandoned Dean when he had thought he had a friend, cowarding away when it became too much. He felt like Anna. The older sister he looked up to in times of terror, the same person who left him to fend for himself. Causing him to close himself off from anyone, even his little brother, Samandrial. He didn't remember much of him, but he does recall how young he was. The moment he reached a legal age, he left. Left that house, left Samandrial. He never called them again, hell, he doesn't know if Samandrial is still alive; or healthy for that matter.

 

Timidly, he found the answer he thought that Dean needed, “To apologize.”

 

 

Dean sat straight on the couch, hands resting intertwined on his lap while he stared at the newly fixed clock hung above his TV. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Castiel's face scrunch in thought, his eyes clouding over in grief and regret. Hm, Dean wondered fleetingly what caused that. Finally, Castiel found the answer he was looking for.

 

He turned to face him, and in the softest voice said, “To apologize.”

 

Dean felt his entire body go cold. He swallowed roughly, his hands twitching in his lap. _To apologize._ Those words repeated in his mind, bouncing around until they were all he heard. No one wants to say sorry to him. No one knows what they do to him. Because Dean deserves the glares and strange life. But those words. He couldn't handle them, and something in him snapped.

 

He stood up, cracked his neck, picked up the six pack and inspected it with hard eyes.

 

“To apologize?” He said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He repeated the words once more before picking up a bottle from the cardboard container and hurling it at the wall, eyes gleaming in delight at the smashing sound. He needed to break something and he doesn't want to hurt people. Not anymore.

 

“Oh yes _apologize_.” He muttered as he smashed another one. All he could see and hear were his families words as he left to the airport, his life flashing before his eyes. Every wrong done to him appearing and leaving just as fast as it had come.

 

“Just like _Sammy_ wanted to.” He near yelled, throwing the bottle especially hard, a glass shard bouncing off and hitting his arm. He hissed but picked up another bottle. Sam wanted to say sorry, he wanted to fix what went wrong. But he didn't. He never showed, he listened to his fucking girlfriend. He had a _meeting_. He had a funeral to attend, he had too much work, he was too busy. Busy busy _busy_.

 

“Just like my dad said.” He growled, the fourth bottle shattering in his grip. His father. Fuck his father. He didn't know what happened. He wasn't there. He never was. It was always him. Always _fucking_ him. His fathers voice sliced through him, the punches, the kicks, each and everyone leaving a scar on him that would never leave. “He didn't care. Oh _no_ he didn't want to.”

 

Without his knowledge he had shattered the remaining two, blood leaking down his hand as he fell to his knees, voice guttural as he spoke of his father. Of the pent up rage, the hatred, the anger, the sadness, the painful empty ache he felt every time his phone rang and it was never his family. Never who he wanted. Never them.

 

“I nearly died and they didn't come. I retired and they weren't at the airport. I... fucking _tried_ to call them... I just... Fuck I... I...” He couldn't speak anymore, his voice a harsh whisper as he gripped his hair, not caring that the blood was getting all over his clothes and him.

 

 

Castiel watched with horror as Dean stood up, his voice guttural and hateful. He watched as he threw the beer bottles, one by one, recalling his family. _The ones in the photos._ He saw his hands bleed and he saw the man fall to his knees. He stood there, a mixture of fear, shock, and curiosity.

 

He's never seen someone break down before. He became paralyzed when he recalled his brother, Lucifer. Was this how he had acted before being dragged away? Castiel's senses were being over filled. Pity, hatred towards himself, sorrow. And something new, he felt a pang of affection. A _need_ to help Dean, to curl up next to him; tell him it was okay. But he couldn't move.

 

He heard Dean breath heavily, painfully. He timidly took a step forward, though all cells in his body were screaming for him to run. To run farther away from Dean. He walked slowly up to him, keeled down and looked at him. He didn't dare touch him in fear of being hurt. He just waited for Dean to find himself, to become aware of his surroundings and aware of the man in front of him, the man who chose not to leave him with himself.

 

 

Dean breathed deeply, each inhale painful, but the exhale calming. His mind raced with anger and fear and depression and pure, dark, total _hatred_ towards his family. His hands grip on his hair tightened and relaxed as he forced himself to calm down. He forced the images and thoughts away, far far where he wouldn't have to think of them. Where they wouldn't resurface for some time.

 

He wondered bleakly if Castiel was still there, sitting on the couch, watching him break down. He was probably long gone, telling everyone of the crazy man in this house. Calling the cops, whoever. He leaned back until he was sitting on his heels, examining the ceiling while prepping himself for the inevitable.

 

His empty eyes glanced to the side just to humor him, only to widen to still see Castiel sitting by him. He chuckled weakly, about to move his hands to his sides only to find them crusted to his hair, the blood dried and welted. He couldn't speak, breathe, or move for that matter. He expected Castiel to be long gone, to take back his apology, to avoid him at all costs because of this but he had not.

 

He had stayed and Dean couldn't help the warmth that filled his chest at that.

 

“So...” He paused to cough through his dry throat, sore from his yells. “Uh... I'm uh...” He was at a loss for words. Finally he choked out, “You can leave. I wouldn't blame you.” He pried his hands from his hair, twitching when he ripped a few strands out and dug some glass deeper into his skin, fresh blood welling up.

 

 

When Dean offered for Castiel to leave, that he wouldn't blame him and he felt something pull inside of him. Castiel stood up, not to leave, but to properly face Dean. He didn't know what to do but put his arms around him. He leaned forward and embraced him, seeking comfort not only for Dean, but for himself as well. He felt Dean's rapid breathing and felt him tense. He stilled himself, fearing that Dean would shove him away, tell him to get out. It wouldn't surprise him much, it had already happened to him before.

 

 

Dean saw Castiel stand and his heart stopped. He knew he would do that, so he shouldn't let it bother him. Right. He shifted his eyes to the floor, breathed in the stench of liquor polluting his air now, to the glass shards littering everything. Anything to distract himself from hearing Castiel leave him. Just like everyone else. Maybe he should just get it over with. Finish it all so he wouldn't bother anyone else ever again.

 

Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.

 

He was about to stand and take a few more pills than healthy with some alcohol, about ready to just finish himself when he heard feet shuffle closer to him. He glanced over and his air left him when he felt arms enclose around him, comforting and warm. He whimpered. It had been far too long since anyone had held him, and for a fleeting moment he felt like shoving him away, running away from this warmth, this soothing feeling.

 

Instead his arms encircled Castiel's waist and he buried his face into the mans middle section, his breath coming out in ragged pants. He felt weak. He felt stupid. But most of all he felt scared. He hadn't shown such weakness before anyone else and here he was, being held by Castiel in the middle of his living room with his hair encrusted with blood and hands bloody and cut open. He would laugh but he was far too busy losing himself in this addicting feeling.

 

 

Castiel was prepared for Dean to push him away, but was pleasantly surprised when he hugged him back. Pulling him closer in fact.

 

It was so much different from when he was younger, barely seven, two years after Anna left. On his birthday he had tried to hug his older brother, Michael. In return, Michael shoved him off, hard enough to make him stumble and fall. He blamed himself after that, it was a stupid thing to try to do when he knew what would happen. After that incident, he never even attempted to show affection to anyone in his family.

 

But now was better, now he had someone to hold close without wanting to run away, to avoid feeling. He got on his knees and buried his head into the crook of Deans neck, he felt Deans heart beat and let himself relax and get lost in the drumming of their hearts beating in unison.

 

 

Dean was slowly relaxing, his breathing returning to normal as his shoulders felt light and his chest full of warmth. He felt Castiel shuffle around until he was also on his knees, burying his head into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean's air left him in a whoosh, bringing his arms tighter around Castiel and breathing in the scent of his hair. It smelled a far cry better than his that's for sure.

 

It felt so right, having Castiel right here in his arms. He burrowed his head into the soft black hair, enjoying immensely the soft touch of Castiel's hands rubbing circles into his back. Time seemed to pass slowly as he felt more than listened to the sound of Castiel's heartbeat. It was so warm and reassuring, the feeling of Castiel there with him, for once someone holding him after he panics, not running and screaming.

 

Not leaving him to face the consequences of his screwed to hell psyche like his father. No, this wasn't the time for thoughts such as that. He leaned away from Castiel slightly, so their foreheads were bumping into each other and gave him a small smile, flexing his hands and feeling sharp pain shooting from them.

 

“I’d hate to end this, but uh... My hands kinda cut to Timbuktu so...” He loathed letting go of Castiel but he would have to clean out his cuts, and his hair, the smell of blood making his head dizzy with fearful images.

 

 

Castiel didn't want to let go. He wanted to stay there with Dean until the sun came up, but his hands were wounded and he needed to let go in order to clean them.

 

He slowly released Dean from his grip while saying, “I want you know I really am sorry for....for ignoring you like that.”

 

He didn't know what Dean said, but he heard him mumble something under his breath. He looked Dean in the eyes before he stood up, allowing him to head into the kitchen. Since he didn't feel that Dean should be alone, he went after him. He hung around in the corner of the kitchen while Dean washed his hands and rummaged the drawers for bandages or some type of cloth. When he found it, he wrapped it around his still bleeding hands and applied pressure.

 

When he saw Dean head back into the living room he followed after him and for a while, they just sat in silence.

 

 

Dean instantly regretted letting go of Castiel, but he did have to clean his hands or otherwise he would get an infection, and with his job he needed his hands. He entered the kitchen and was just slightly surprised to see Castiel had followed him. He found the presence of the other soothing and didn't want to scare him off, so he made no mention of it. He stood by the sink, pulling out shard after shard of glass, letting warm water cascade down his now open cuts as he washed them gently.

 

He then moved to the drawer just by his refrigerator which held one of his first aid kits, he grabbed some gauze out of it and wrapped his hand (albeit awkwardly, he had only his left hand to use and he was right handed). He applied a bit of pressure around the first layer until the bleeding slowed, then added one more for measure before making his way back into the living room. They both sat on the remade couches in silence, the only sound coming from his clock, ticking just above his TV.

 

He felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to say, but he could still feel the warmth from where Castiel had placed his arms, so it wasn't too bad.

 

“So uh, you're uh, not gonna run off this time right?” He finally managed to say, turning to look back at Castiel with anxious eyes.

 

 

After a while of total silence, Dean asked, “So uh, you're uh, not gonna run off this time right?” While staring right at him.

 

Castiel took some time to think on that. He didn't want to leave Dean, not now at least; when he needed someone to care about him the most. His feelings were mixed. He didn't know how to feel. This man just totally broke down in front of him, now his hands are torn and a bloody mess, yet he didn't want to run away. Well, he did. He wanted to run to freaking Canada. But he didn't want to abandon Dean, mostly in fear that he would break down like this again and surly commit more damage to himself than just splitting open his hands.

 

When he looked at Dean he saw a man in need, in need of affection, in need of being watched over, and a man in need of a savior. And by the looks of it, so far no one has devoted their time to do so. His father, mother, and brother have all cut him out of their lives, like you would cut off the rotting part of the plant to keep the vegetable happy and healthy. Castiel, as much as he didn't want to, felt that eventually the weight on his shoulders would become too much and he would freak out and he would bolt. But if he could keep Dean happy, even only for a little while, he'll do it.

 

Whether or not his words were true, or that he would abide them through and through, Castiel only said a few words, “No, I wont.” And after a long pause, he looked at Dean and said, “I promise.” Knowing that they would be the most consoling words he could hear right now and -hopefully- not cause another lash out.

 

 

Dean swallowed roughly, tears threatening to sting at his eyes but he held them back. He was a man damn it and he would not cry. Instead, he gave a full blown smile. He was happy, he (hopefully) made a friend. Someone he could hang out with, someone he could talk to. His thoughts threatened to remind him of when Castiel ran for those three months but hell he didn't run from his episode, so maybe he could be a bit hopeful? Just a bit. Nothing more.

 

“Lets avoid a chick flick moment, and uh, you can go home and I'll clean this mess up.” He said, gesturing to the mess of glass shards and liquid. “And we can meet up for coffee or something, eh?”

 

 

Castiel looked at Dean, he wanted to stay with him, but he knew that Dean needed some time to himself. Some time to think about what happened.

 

When he really thought about it, spending some normal time with him would be nice. You know, without the other participant was just finished breaking down. He smiled at the thought. _Just him and Dean, sitting at a quaint little shop, sipping coffee out of mugs, eating scones and just having a good time-_ Then his thoughts halted, it wasn't going to be a date or anything. Just some quality friend time. Oh, he _longed_ to be more than friends with Dean, only if he could just _realize_ it.

 

When the smile hadn't prove to be the least bit faked, Castiel said, “Yeah. We can meet up later, at my house...no, how about that cafe I see you at so much?” He couldn't look away from Dean. He looked generally _happy,_ and he had been the one to cause it.

 

 

Dean scratched the back of his head and leaned backwards into the couch, relaxing from his otherwise straight posture. He guessed tonight would be good, otherwise he would be sitting alone staring at the new dents in his wall and new scars on his hands. His heart nearly ( _nearly_ ) skipped a beat when Castiel offered for him to come over to his house later but hell he doesn't do stuff like that so he just grinned until his cheeks complained for an _entirely_ different reason.

 

“Sure we can meet up at like eight or something, I should be done cleaning then.” And with that Castiel had left with the promise to meet up later. Dean was not watching him go with a happy expression. Nope, not at all.

 

Later that evening after he was done cleaning and dressed in his average attire he left off to the cafe, excited to meet up with the first friend hes had in some years. They had met up and fell into easy conversation about meaningless things, easing into the territory of getting to know each other. Dean could say it was fun and they both left laughing at some joke about noodles that he couldn't remember for the life of him. They agreed to meet later next week when they found the time.

 

Eventually they met up every Thursday and Saturday at the coffee shop, and held small talk whenever they ran into each other. Sunday they spent at either of each others houses, watching bad sitcoms just because they could. Without realizing it four months had passed and Dean was _happy_. Hell, even his boss noticed it after Dean agreed to go out with him and the other workers to their night outs finally.

 

As time went on and he and Castiel became closer friends, his attacks came less and less and his shoulders felt lighter and his chest warmer. In fact, he didn't notice but the closer he and Castiel grew, the larger the flame that was slowly building in Dean's chest did too. Sure he still went out with ladies (more often now that he was becoming more sociable), but every time he saw Castiel smile or tilt his head in that infuriatingly adorable way his stomach flipped and his heart decided to try skipping.

 

He didn't (did) know what it was, but he didn't want to put a microscope to it. He was just feeling protective of his first friend. Hell, Castiel was just a bit younger than Sam he just felt like another brother. Yeah, that was it. Maybe he should just help Castiel get some action. Though the imagery of Castiel with someone made his blood boil, and his head swim with possessive thoughts, it was just because he wanted Castiel with the right girl. Right. His ability to deny everything was rather amazing when he thought about it.

 

He scoffed at his thought process while sitting across from Castiel in the cafe that became their prime hang out spot.

 

 

Time flew by faster than Castiel could enjoy. Later on, as he got to know Dean better he learned more of his true self. Not the depressed, issue ridden man he had know all but months ago. Castiel enjoyed having Dean around, it never occurred to him how lonely he was. Day in and day out, he looked forward to seeing that man at that same cafe. In fact, not too long after the incident, he found that being with Dean was the high light of his day. It began to come slowly to him, and eventually he knew what he was feeling. He was falling in love.

 

 

“So Cas, I've been thinking about helping you get a lady friend. I mean, I met this chick Lisa last night and let me tell you, this chick, man, is _awesome_.” He said, although slightly forced because whenever he mentioned him and girls around Castiel he would twitch just the slightest. He was doing that a lot recently and Dean didn't know what was wrong. Perhaps something was wrong? Dean was just trying his best to rid himself of thinking about his friend in those manners, and maybe he was trying to show everyone in the world Dean Winchester was not falling in love with Castiel and was still in tuned very much with the ladies.

 

“Hey Cas buddy, you fine?” He asked, slightly worried he had done something wrong.

 

 

Castiel stood dead still when Dean had mentioned finding him a _lady friend._ He knew what that meant. Dean wanted him to get a girlfriend. And he also knew what _that_ meant. It meant that his feelings were in vain. Dean only liked him as a _friend._ What was Castiel thinking? Letting himself fall like that when in the end, it would add up to nothing? He clenched his jaw and then smiled widely at Dean, his _best friend._ The man who was only ever going to be a friend.

 

He forced himself to chuckle, “Yeah, that'd be nice.” When he _did_ think about it, maybe it would benefit himself. I mean, if Dean didn't love him back, what was the point of letting himself fall deeper and deeper, spiraling into a pit of mad love? A woman -a lover- would distract himself, eventually rid himself of this feeling that tore at him since the moment he accepted it.

 

Looking at Dean, he swore he saw something sad in those eyes of his. Then again, it was probably just in his head, caused by his desperation for something - _anything_ \- that would prove him wrong. He could already feel himself letting go, even though his grip on that feeling was deadly.

 

 

Dean felt a little bit of himself die when Castiel agreed with him. That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Oh well. He bit into the inside of his lip, trying to force the jealousy already coiling in his gut at the prospect of Castiel dating someone. But he was Dean and he was doing his friend a favor, even if it hurt him. Castiel had done a lot for him already, bringing him out of his shell somehow and making him actually sociable. The least he could do was give Castiel a bit of joy, because honestly who would want Dean?

 

All Dean could offer him was a broken man just barely rebuilding himself, while some nameless lady could give him a life, happiness, unlike him. He swallowed the bile in his throat down, he could do this, just take Castiel out to a bar and find him some one. Maybe call that Lisa girl again. Yeah, that's what he should do. Not lust after the first person in sometime to give him the time of day. His grin felt forced as he stood up, wiping imaginary dust off of his jeans.

 

“Knew you'd agree, we could head down to a bar whenever you want, and I'll help you pick out a good one.”

 

 

Castiel felt himself stagger a bit when he realized it was over. After all of those months, all of that _wasted_ affection...he wasn't sure how much longer he could be friends with Dean. He felt that he had spoiled their friendship. But Dean was the nicest, sweetest -no matter how broken he was- man he's ever met. He wouldn't end it, not like he really could bring himself to do it.

 

In a few hours, Dean and him were at a local bar, Dean taking shots while he sat in discomfort. He didn't know if this would go well. He hoped it did, he didn't know how much more he could go on like this. Hiding his feelings for the sake of not having his heart break. He didn't think he would be able to take the damage.

 

Dean had pointed out multiple woman, none of them interested Castiel. He didn't want anyone other than Dean, but he knew he had to move on or he would just get hurt.

 

 

Dean held back his sighs of relief whenever Castiel refused a girl he pointed out. He shouldn't be relieved but he was. But he shouldn't be so he tried his best to convince Castiel to just choose someone already. He already told Lisa he would be coming over later after he got his friend Castiel hooked up. He then spotted the perfect (horrible) girl, one who resembled the last girl he noticed Castiel held interest in.

 

She had long black straight hair and bright blue eyes (not like Castiel's), a nice body and a cute (ugly) smile. He recognized her, Hale. She came in sometimes for some repairs when her truck wasn't in tip top shape. He pointed her out and tried to ignore the strange flash in Castiel's eyes when he commented on how 'pretty' the girl was. But he managed to convince Castiel and eventually the other man made his way over to the girl, oblivious to Dean's wandering eyes down his body.

 

He was letting Castiel go off with a girl and was about to go off to his own, so he figured it wouldn't be too bad to check him out, give himself one last eyeful, and _damn_ did Castiel look good. Maybe it was the alcohol letting these thoughts slip but he just now noticed how the black jeans Castiel wore framed his backside and how his hair appeared as if he just came from some fun in the sack. He gulped, his hands tightening on the glass he was holding. He just wanted to bend Castiel over and- he's gonna need more liquor. A lot more.

 

He turned back to the bartender and requested a few more shots, one eye kept on Castiel all the while he drowned his thoughts in alcohol.

 

 

Castiel finally gave in to a woman Dean pointed out, she looked good. No, she was _beautiful._ He mentioned her attractiveness to Dean and he made his way to the woman. She was even better looking up close, her smile was soothing.

 

He bought her a drink and he charmed her with his sparkling smiles and charming grins. They were chatting for a while, swapping stories and suddenly, she leaned in and kissed him. It was quick, but it sent flutters to Castiel's stomach.

 

She tilted her head and smiled, “How about we go outside, hm?”

 

Castiel nodded and he led her outside. He swore he saw Dean watching him as they left, he was most likely proud that he could get a girl. When they were outside he leaned down and pressed his lips to her, savoring the warmth of her lips against his. It felt good, it was distracting. He was taking it slow with her, coaxing her to the wall and lightly moving against her. He could feel her smiling as he placed his hand on the back of her neck and brought her closer.

 

He was getting lost in the feeling when he felt something tug at him, for a moment he thought it was in his head before he heard the woman -what was her name? Hale- squeak and call out his name as he was dragged away. He was panicked when he turned around and saw Dean; angry with a face full of hate.

 

 

He was fine with this. Absolutely fine. One hundred percent A-okay with the fact Hale just kissed _his_ Castiel and with her harpy hands dragged him away outside. He ordered another shot, the bartender staring him down, asking if he really needed another one. He barked he was fine and stared at him back in confirmation and eventually the man gave in, pouring another shot before sliding it over, warning him it was the last one he'll have tonight. Well good, it will be all he needed.

 

He drowned it as flashes of what was possibly happening outside hit him like bricks. Were they making out? More? Was he reciprocating? Enjoying it as much as Hale? Were they going to her place? His place? Would they do it on the couch? Would she scream? Would he? As these thoughts poured through his mind like the liquor down his throat his anger increased. She had no right. No one did. Castiel was the one who saved him and promised him he wouldn't leave. He was more deserving than some girl at a bar.

 

He stood up, slamming down a random currency before storming off in the direction he last saw them go. He entered the alley just outside the bar and what he saw made his blood boil and vision fill with hate. There against the wall was Castiel and Hale, doing what he expected. He didn't know if it was the alcohol that made him do it but if he was sober he knew he would've walked away.

 

He charged forward, gripping the collar of Castiel's shirt and dragging him off the girl, taking pleasure in her squeal of fear. He growled for her to get lost and she was quick to follow suit, running for her life back inside the bar. Dean then turned Castiel to face him, gripping his shoulders and shoving him back into the wall, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against the others.

 

“Did you like it?” He ground out, his voice slurred just the slightest but otherwise alert. His mind was reeling with the feeling of Castiel close to him and somewhere in the back of his mind he was shouting at himself to stop, stop before he ruined his friendship with him. But he couldn't stop, not with the liquor running through his system and the smell and feel of Castiel so close and panting heavily with his mouth parted and kiss bruised. There was no way he could.

 

 

Castiel felt himself be shoved up against a wall, painfully. He winced and whimpered.

 

He felt Dean press his forehead to his and growl to him, “Did you like it?”

 

Castiel broke. He felt all of his held back emotions break free, they were over powering. “I,” He paused, chocking down a sob, “I can't Dean....I just...” He wanted to turn his head away, he didn't want to look at him. He was trying not to cry. Now he didn't know what to feel. Did Dean hate him, did he love him? Were they even _friends_ any more?

 

“Dean....” He heard Dean grumble. “Dean, I know this isn't _you.”_ He looked Dean in the eyes and he saw confusion. He saw _anger, desperation, need_....there were just too many to name. He clung onto Deans back for dear life, what else was he supposed to do? He looked him in the eye, and just waited. Waited for Dean to find himself.

 

 

Dean breathed deeply, his body thrumming with _want_ and _need_ and _Castiel_ , his mind a constant reel of his smell and feel and voice and just _him_. He heard Castiel hold back a sob and he felt that like a stab in his gut. Did he just ruin his relationship with his friend? Was Castiel terrified of him now? Castiel looked away from him, his voice a harsh cry. He wanted to stop, god he did. He was about to back away, tell Castiel he's sorry and that he doesn't have to talk to him again, but felt the firm grip of Castiel's hands on his back and did anyone really expect him to move away now?

 

He pressed further into him, wedging a leg between Castiel's and nuzzling his head into the side of his, breathing in deeply, his breath rushing against the others ear. This is what he wanted. He wanted Castiel so bad. He was the first one to show him anything, anything besides common courtesy. He was so tired and done with pretending he only liked Castiel as a friend. Did he want him also? He didn't push him away. He _pulled_ him closer.

 

“I need you Cas... For so long, I wanted you...” He whispered into the others ear, one hand sliding to grip his neck lightly, the other down to rest at his waist, thumb making small circular motions on the bone.

 

 

Castiel could feel his heart skip a beat and his stomach flip. _Dean wanted him._ Castiel welled up with emotion and he couldn't hold it back. He _needed_ Dean. He gripped Deans jaw with both of his hands and pulled his face up, making him look at him.

 

He pulled Dean forward and sucked in his breath when he felt Dean show no resistance. He felt his lips press against his and it was a wonderful feeling. It was soft, long lasting and just _right._ He moved his hands from his face to his hips, lightly gripping them and just relaxing. Letting himself fall into the kiss.

 

 

Dean could have cried when Castiel didn't shove him away, didn't find him repulsive and instead gripped his face, pulling him in to stare at each other. They looked into each other for a few seconds, a silent confirmation that this was happening and they both were just fine with it, then dove in. They kissed for some time, the pace was slow compared to what Dean wanted but he was fine because he had Castiel in his arms and as _his_.

 

He pulled Castiel closer to himself, his hand lightly threading through what hair he could grasp while his other hand slid to Castiel's legs, gripping just below his ass to hitch the leg up. Groaning happily when Castiel moved fluently with him and opened his mouth just the slightest, allowing Dean to explore inside. He pulled away to properly lift Castiel up, pausing before moving in to kiss him and just _look_. Castiel was here with him and not with Hale. Castiel chose to stay with _him_ , the dented man with no family to his name and a past that haunted him.

 

He had both hands on Castiel thighs, his forehead resting against the other as his breath came out in ragged pants. Yeah he should stop this before anything went too far, if he was to do anything with Castiel he wanted to be sober. He gave a light chuckle, his mind not anytime soon going to forget how Castiel looked with his lips partly open, a small trail of saliva on his chin from his previous ministrations. His hair was mussed and his pupils blown wide, chest falling and rising rapidly with each breath against Dean's own.

 

“So uh... Yeah we might want to stop before I uh... You know. I'd rather be sober.” He managed to say, his eyes crinkling around the corners as a grin stretched across his face.

 

 

Castiel drove Dean home (he was too buzzed to drive safely on his own) and led him inside. After getting him in bed he curled up next to him. It wasn't long until Dean was fast asleep and snoring. He thought about things.

 

He thought about Anna, and Gabriel, Micheal and Lucifer. He thought about that kid Samandrial he abandoned all those years ago and he thought about his father. Him and Dean shared a pretty screwed up past, but considering the possibilities; the future held such great things. He wasn't expecting to fall for anyone in his lifetime, but apparently having his car break down was the best thing that could have happened to him.

 

Dean was a broken man, sure, but with some repairs anything can be rebuilt even more beautiful than it was before. As much as things could go right, so many things could go wrong. But right now, Castiel couldn't bring himself to think of the bad endings. He could only think of the present and how it felt.

 

Months went by, even years. Dean eventually moved into Castiel's house -no longer owning any family photos- him and Castiel made their own to decorate the house with. They fell deeper in love as time went on. They hit bumps on the roads, sometimes they screamed at each other and sometimes they made up. They made love, they made taxes, they made memories and they forgot the past. Now, they had eachother and in the end, that's all that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda rushed ending but ehhhh I was getting bored and decided to start another rp! @w@;;


End file.
